“It sounds far-fetched to me too, but you never know. You and José work together.”
“And look how well that’s turning out.” I pick at the hem of my sweater. “At least he apologized for Pansy’s hard sell the other day. Believe it or not, she’s having a difficult time finding clients for Pads by Pansy.” I laugh. “I think he’s finally starting to catch on. We just need something to push him over the edge.”
He looks like he’s about to say something, but he shuts hismouth and nods toward the screen. “How about we keep it simple and ask if they know her?”
“You mean you don’t want to go in hot and tell them we think she’s a manipulative asshole with bad taste in home renovating?”
He smiles. “For all you know, their houses were the testing ground for Pads by Pansy.”
I press my shoulder into his, feeling a swell of fondness for him. “You’re right. Let’s send the boring messages and see how they reply.”
I watch while he types the message, adding to the end:
If so, I have some questions.
He glances over his shoulder at me, our faces inches apart. “We want to keep them hungry for more.”
He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but I feel another rush of dumb butterflies.
“Yeah, good idea,” I say.
Then he surprises me by shutting the laptop and setting it on the coffee table.
I raise my eyebrows, trying to ignore my racing pulse. “Aren’t you going to send the message?”
“In a minute. I think I’d like to ask you my question now.”
It takes me a second to process what he’s talking about—the question I promised I’d answer as his reward for winning the pear bet. My pulse thrums faster as I nod.
He takes a slow inhale, then says in a gush, “Why are you doing this? Is it to save José from marrying someone like your dad, or is it because you have feelings for him?”
“Oh my God. I don’t have feelings for him,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. I sound defensive. Ifeeldefensive. “I just…”
I think of the brewery. The bustle of it. The scent of ginger. The beautiful bottles with our labels on them, all lined up in a row. It puts a sock in my throat.
“I don’t want him to be unhappy, and I don’t want either of us to lose the brewery. We’ve worked so hard for it.”
Cormac nods, but he’s still wearing his thinking look.
“Do you think I’m lying to you about José?” I ask, pissed off by the thought, even though I have no right to be. Iama liar. I never wanted to be one, but here we are. I’ve lied to José and Pansy, I’ve lied to my mother, and I’ve lied to Cormac too.
Just not about this.
“Not on purpose.” He settles an elbow on his knee and props his chin on it. “But I wonder if you’re being fully honest with yourself.”
It feels like he just slapped me.
I get up, intending to storm out, but he reaches for my arm, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.
“No, please don’t walk away from me. Not like this.”
He might as well have wrapped his fist around my heart.
“I…”
“I like you, Nora. I’m not helping you because you watched my dog, or because my dad wants us to get along. I’m definitely not doing it because you said you’d help me date other women. I’m not interested in anyone else. Ilikeyou. I’ll keep helping you no matter what. But you deserve to know the reason for it.”
“Cormac.” There’s anguish in my voice—in me—and I don’t even understand why.
